Spider's Pentacle
by Myshi corp
Summary: After loosing an important battle, Fury signs a contract with a spider demon. He disguises her as the infamous Black Widow, and they work together towards world peace, cutting down foes while still maintaining a charade of normalcy. The best person in espionage may not be a person after all. Rated T for action and minor language.
1. Chapter 1

**_Spider's Pentacle_**

 **Hello! This is Myshi Corp, returning after a long break. I realized that there were far to few Black Butler/Avengers crossovers, and I wanted to help solve that problem. SHIELD, with all of it's inhumans, has to have a demon in the mix. In fact, this makes so much sense that I'm surprised it hasn't been written before!**

 **I will try to update frequently, and would appreciate comments, constructive criticism, and suggestions. The first commenter gets to know what the trading card incident Hill mentions was!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything, and the amazing cover art is the work of my cousin (even though I wish I could claim it).**

* * *

 _Nick Fury was stuck in between a rock and a hard place, or rather, a group of highly armed militants and a hallway with only dead ends. To make matters worse, he could hear shouting, gunfire, and footsteps getting closer._ _He dived into the nearest room he could find and started to_ _pile furniture against the door: a desk, a swiveling office chair, a sad looking potted plant, a file cabinet that looked like it hadn't been touched in years, a lamp, anything that wasn't booted to the floor._

 _The odds of him making his way out alive were slim, and got slimmer as the shouting_ _intensified on the other side. The door started to buckle slightly, and Fury stared to run through scenarios in his head. Fighting wasn't an option- he didn't have any weapons and chances are he couldn't get close. There was no escape route inside the room- this particular office didn't even have an air vent, much less a secret door or a window. He was stuck unless… unless... unless he could create his own deus ex machina to save him. Damn it. Why did his long repressed sense of humor have to choose now to reappear?_

 _Actually, the deus ex machina idea had some merit... if he was willing to sacrifice his soul to escape. The idea didn't bother him as much as it_ _probably should have. Fury figured he was going to hell anyway, why not postpone last trip?_

 _The only instructions on how to summon a demon had been muddled over the years and many retellings, so Fury wasn't even sure it would work. The last written account had been authored by an eighteenth century noble, who said that summoning one was a simple as wishing it._

 _It was worth trying, so Fury closed his eyes, tried to block out the screams and gunfire, and concentrated._

 _Nothing happened._

 _Wiping drops of sweat from his forehead, he tried not to panic. When had it become so hot in here?_

 _Wait._

 _The temperature plummeted, going from sweltering to freezing in seconds, and the shadows became more defined, sharper. Black tendrils floated out, lazily swimming around the room, and all outside noises vanished. The only sound in the room was Fury's own breathing, and then that noise faded too. It was like a wormhole had opened up and transported him through space and time. The ceiling vanished into the blackness, followed by the walls, then his makeshift barricade, then the floor._

 _The shadows where whirling now, going faster and faster, marshaling into a silhouette. The smell of blood permeated the air, becoming almost suffocating._

 _"You summoned me?" A dry voice cut through the silence, sending every hair on his body straight up. It was petrifying, and Fury forgot to breath for a few seconds._

 _Mustering his courage, he firmly announced to the darkness "Yes. I wish to form a contract."_

 _"What are the your terms?" The voice again created flashes of screams, blood, fear, and pain in his head. It was_ _death incarnate, and the reek of fresh blood amplified the terror._

 _By now Fury's composure was hanging on by a thread. He had faced down torture, certain death, and some of the most terrifying people on earth, but this conversation brought up a primal fear he had no control over. Swallowing, he said "You'll help me create peace on this earth until the day I die. In exchange, you can have my soul."_

 _"Hmm. You're the noble type. Tasty. Where would you like your mark? The more prominent on your body, the stronger the bond between us."_

 _Oh no. He hadn't thought of that. In the noble's account, he had it on his eye- wait. No questions would be asked if he said he had injured his eye. He could wear an eye patch, say the attack had destroyed it._

 _"I would like it on my left eye. Will that work?" He decided to go with his left eye because his right was his dominant, and the one he used to hit targets._

 _The voice spoke again, and the shadow grew and slowly moved towards him, looking like a tiger stalking prey._

 _"Certainly. I accept your terms, and therefore_ _take you as my master. What are your orders, sir?"_

* * *

In the depths of the New York SHIELD base, Clint Barton stormed into Phil Coulson's office, throwing a thin file onto his desk. His ever professional handler simply raised a thin eyebrow, unimpressed by his agent's behavior.

"Barton, I assume this temper tantrum is about your next mission?" remarked Coulson, without taking his eyes off of a mission report in front of him. Barton was still fuming.

"Why the hell is Fury sending me over to Russia, of all places, chasing a ghost story? Is this really the best time to be doing this, considering the shitload that just went down at headquarters?"

Coulson set down the sheaf of papers, looking at him.

"The Black Widow has been a persistent thorn in SHIELD's side ever since she joined the world of espionage. We got word yesterday that she will be targeting a rich Russian businessman at a social function two days from now. You need to go and eliminate her, so she doesn't become a bigger problem later."

Barton sighed.

"I suppose that part makes sense, but why on earth don't you have a single picture? All this file says for sure is that she's female. The rest of the accounts vary- some say she has blue eyes, others swear they're brown. Sometimes she's thirty, sometimes sixty! There is no concrete information, so I'm running this op with my eyes closed."

Coulson looked at him sympathetically.

"I know it isn't easy- that's why you're on it. You can figure it out. Just keep an eye on the businessman and take note of who's interested in him. Now, aren't you about to miss your flight?"

Barton glanced at his watch, and cursed in a couple different languages. The he grabbed the file, and hightailed it over to the waiting quinjet.

"Good luck, Agent!" Coulson yelled at his retreating figure.

"Jebi se!" came the distant response.

Coulson shook his head. He knew letting Barton learn profanities in Croatian would a mistake.

* * *

"You did what?!" Coulson yelled into a phone, a couple days after Barton traveled to Russia. He was in the middle of a meeting with Fury and Maria Hill, but they could wait. All that mattered now was his agent on the other side of the hemisphere, deciding that his target, the honest-to-gods Black Widow, was in need of redemption from her troubled past. Then, instead of killing her, he had offered her a job at SHIELD!

"What is it?" asked Hill. He made a one moment signal, then interrupted the person on the phone, saying "Barton, Fury and Hill are here. I am going to put you on speaker so you can answer to them too."

As he set the phone in the middle of the briefing table, they could all hear Barton's nervous response.

"I'm really in big trouble, aren't I?"

Hill smirked.

"I haven't seen Coulson like this since the trading card incident, so, yes, I think you are," she said seriously.

"Agent Barton, can you update us on the situation?" asked Fury, who, along with Hill, had no idea what was going on.

"He offered the Black Widow a job," snapped an angry Coulson.

Fury needed verbal conformation from Barton before he would believe that.

"Is that true, agent?"

"Yup," said Barton, popping the 'p' while trying to add some levity to the situation.

"And how do you know she won't use you to get information? She could be playing you right now." Fury was not amused.

"She let me sedate her, so I'll just keep her under, and then I can bring her to base and you can run an interrogation. She doesn't think she deserves a chance at redemption, and she's not fighting, she literally told me to kill her. Please give her a chance." Barton was almost like a little boy begging his parents to let him keep a puppy.

Fury humored him.

"We'll interrogate her, and then decide what to do from there."

Barton was ecstatic.

"Thank you, sir!"

Ever the pessimist, Fury had to interject "I'm still putting you on probation."

"Aww, man."


	2. Chapter 2

**Next chapter! Thank you to everyone who followed this story- I will try to post chapter 3 soon.**

 **10/1- Is it October already? Wow, I've been writing this for a while. Hope people enjoy the edits!**

* * *

 _Fury was still dealing with the fallout from (as Barton so eloquently described) "that shitstorm that just went down at headquarters," when he walked in to find his office occupied by a shadow. His demon had taken a roughly humanoid form, and had it's boots up on the desk._

 _"Master, I'm beginning to think you don't have anything for me to do." Now that he was talking with the demon in real life, it sounded less like death incarnate and more like a mob boss- frighteningly calm and powerful, but not about to consume his soul. (A treacherous part of his brain contributed the cheery thought of "That comes later.")_

 _"Actually, I do have a task for you." Since the demon was sprawled in his chair with their feet on top of his files, Fury was forced to bend around it and slide a file from underneath it's boots. It was a change from dealing with nervous subordinates, but in that moment he would have prefered a shaky intern to a black shadow. The demon's boots were dark enough to appear black in most lights, but under closer inspection were the same color as a sluggishly bleeding cut._

 _Maintaining his composure and acting like nothing was unusual, Fury started a standard briefing. Might as well start training the demon in standard agent proceedings now rather than later._

 _"I need you to target and replace the Black Widow. I'll then send an agent to eliminate you, but you will persuade them to recruit you instead. You will become an agent of SHIELD, working under me as a STRIKE team member. You will also be placed with a team and expected to emulate normal human interactions, to a certain degree. If I give a direct order to complete something by any means necessary, you may use your full scope of talents."_

 _The demon slid it's boots off the desk and sat up._

 _"Yes, master. What does this Widow look like?"_

 _"No one knows. All of the accounts are contradictory, so you may decide your appearance." Fury couldn't see any harm in letting it decide what it looked like._

 _"Thank you, master." For the last century it's masters had controlled what if looked like, right down to the knot type on it's cravats. This was a nice change._

 _"Also, during missions and medical exams you must have the physical capabilities of an above-average human," added Fury, because he didn't want to invite any more questions from the council._

 _"Yes, master."_

 _"Oh, and call me Director or Sir. Master is extremely outdated." That would definitely raise questions he didn't want to answer. Master was a term reserved for creepy minions and Gollum impersonators._

 _"Yes, my apologies, sir. It is hard to undo six thousand year old habits." With that the demon stood and stalked to the window, opened it, and jumped. Fury stalked over to the window and peered out, seeing no sign of a disturbance._

 _He was perplexed._

 _"I hope that won't be a regular occurrence."_

* * *

In a small, heavily guarded interrogation room, Natalia Romanova, or the Black Widow, was perplexing Coulson. Not only had she allowed Barton to bring her here, but she was cooperating. She had already given him the location of five KGB bases, and was currently dictating a blueprint of the biggest one. There was only two options here: she could be telling the truth and therefore really wanted to defect, or she could be lying to them in order to get information about SHIELD. The only way to tell would be to send an agent to verify the intel. He wanted to send Barton, to punish him for his recklessness. He swore that man would give him a heart attack someday.

Coulson was still trying to understand what had motivated Barton to save her. Natalia was beautiful, yes, but all of her confirmed kills were included in the mission briefing. His agent was acting like he was taking in a puppy, but he was oblivious to the fact that it could kill them all. ("At least she's talking," said a level-headed part of his brain. "She could kill you.")

"The main entrance is hidden in the embankment under the San Angelo bridge in Rome, correct?"

"Yes, on the left side of the river."

Coulson, who was creating the blueprint, scrawled the location on the corner of a sheet of graph paper.

"Then, there is a twenty feet long corridor leading to an elevator?"

"Yes. There is one office along that corridor, it's a security outpost that governs who comes in and out. The guards inside will activate the defenses if you don't say the password, which is 'Rochambeau.' Once you say the password, the hidden door will open and you can pass." Natalia was surprisingly detailed in her description. He supposed it came from noticing things for a living.

"What are the defenses?" he asked, curious.

Natalia shrugged.

"The usual. Automated turrets mounted in the walls, guards, complete lockdown of the base, and, if necessary, a tidal wave caused by the breaching of a dam upstream."

Coulson wrote these defensive measures by the entrance, then motioned to a spot halfway along the corridor.

"Is the security office here?"

"No, it's on the other side of the corridor."

He moved the pencil.

"Here?"

"A little farther towards the main entrance."

Coulson moved his pencil again.

"Here?"

Natalia sighed, slipped her hand up, took the pencil, and sketched in the room. Coulson was shocked. He could have sworn she was handcuffed!

On the other side of the one-way glass, Clint was doubled over with laughter. The look on his handler's face was priceless.

Natalia drew a security room, complete with the number of guards and security monitors, then leaned back and crossed her arms, waiting for Coulson to recover.

"Miss Romanova, I'm afraid we need you to put the cuffs back on."

She uncrossed her arms and calmly responded.

"I don't really see the point. I can easily escape them again, and it's more efficient for me to draw the plans myself."

He almost agreed with her. If she had wanted out of the room, she could have killed him and escaped effortlessly earlier. She was the Black Widow, after all.

"Alright, you may keep your hands free. Remember, if you make one move, the entire place will be surrounded, and you will be killed."

"That works." Natalia flippantly said, before reaching for another sheet of paper and starting on the lower level.

Coulson inwardly sighed. She was like a less emotional Barton. A loose cannon, who delighted in scaring people around her. What on earth had he signed up for?


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, all!**

 **It's been a while, and I'm honestly sorry. I know it's annoying to scroll through long author's notes, so just insert what you imagine I'll say here.**

 **Please review, disclaimer,** **bla, bla, bla...**

* * *

 _Natasha was enjoying this master more than most others- unlike some that she had served that just wanted a butler or a concubine, Fury was allowing her some autonomy and had told her to act like a person in all aspects. That instruction had enabled her to form friendships with others, find out what kind of food she liked, and to explore the world. Some previous masters had even dictated her hairstyle, and she was glad that Fury let her decide._

 _Today he had called her to his office for an unofficial briefing._

 _"A few days ago, an billionaire weapons inventor named Tony Stark was captured by the Ten Rings, a terrorist organization in the Middle East. I want you to collect the information concerning his location without leading anyone back to SHIELD."_

 _That was an interesting request._

 _"Yes, sir. Shall I rescue him as well?"_

 _Natasha had run rescue missions over the years, in addition to assassinations, intelligence gathering, and protection details, but they were always so much more complex._

 _"No. I want you to collect and leak the intel, nothing more."_

 _It wasn't her place to question it._

 _"Yes, sir."_

* * *

Pepper and Rhodey had tried absolutely everything. They had called all of the known intelligence agencies with authority on the Ten Rings, contacted the military multiple times, and offered a cash reward for information regarding Tony's whereabouts. Even JARVIS was combing the web for any trace- an odd comment in a chat room, a picture with a clue in the background.

The search was driving them all ragged, but nothing of use was turning up. They had lists of all of the major terrorists, but were no closer to finding Tony.

The days dragged on, until one day JARVIS gave an alert.

"Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes, I was just approached by an online entity, offering information on Mr. Stark's whereabouts. I am now trying to trace this signal, but they seem to be fending me off quite proficiently- I am unable to determine their location."

Pepper's head snapped up, and she hurriedly asked JARVIS for more information.

"What was the information the entity was offering?"

JARVIS took a second to respond.

"I was uncertain about accepting it at first because I feared it might be a Trojan horse. However, given the fact that this person only fought back when I tried to determine their location, I will now accept it."

The document loaded in front of Pepper, and she eagerly flipped through the hologram. It was a photocopy of a file, and the cover had a note paper clipped to it. The little note said "This is what I have. Good luck" in a graceful cursive that Pepper thought looked as if it had been written by a woman.

Inside the holographic file were satellite pictures of an establishment, letters about the kidnapping to and from major players in the Ten Rings,  
and a list of coordinates of the various bases, with all but one crossed out. Pepper felt excitement rising, but pushed it down before she could get her hopes up.

"JARVIS, send this to Rhodes. Explain the circumstances. Let's start double checking the information, and try to find the location of the satellite picture. If it matches the circled coordinates, the intel has a good chance of being correct."

Pepper paused, and then added to her instructions.

"Make sure you thank the person who did this."

"I already did, and they say you are very welcome. Should I continue trying to find their location?"

"No, leave them alone and get to work on the intel. We shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Apt metaphor. I'll tell you if I find anything"

* * *

Natasha smiled as she transferred the information to the person on the other end. They had stopped trying to determine her location after she had rigorously defended herself from their attack, and they had settled to an unspoken "Don't ask, don't tell" agreement.

She jumped as the entity on the other end sent her a note.

"I don't know who you are, but you may have saved the life of my friend. Thank you."

She hesitated before typing a response.

"Anytime."

* * *

The next week, there was a single message on her computer- a link to an article and a note

"Genius Billionaire Recovered from Terrorist Cell," the article proclaimed.

A note was below the link.

"Thank you"

Natasha smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, dear readers! I think this is the promptest update I've had so far (Yay!).**

 **I wanted to have Natasha's perspective on the events in Thor without messing too much with canon, so I created this. The mythology that she talks about is correct, but anyone has conflicting information remember that the information is old and sources vary. I got most of this out of old D'Aulaires books, so it can be oversimplified at points.**

 **I hope you enjoy and yes, I will be getting to the Avengers movie soon.**

 **Love and a Disclaimer,**

 **Myshi Corp.**

* * *

Beating her pen against the stack of paperwork, Natasha debated the best sentence construction. How many different ways could she say "I found a bad guy, knocked him out, then left?" The worst part about having both Clint and Phil off in another time zone was that she was required to catch up on paperwork. Whenever they were together they conspired to avoid Deputy Director Hill, but when her team was gone there was no point.

Two-thirds of Strike Team Delta were in Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, dealing with an 804 that had landed in the desert. Clint had called her last night during his surveillance duty, and had told her "Tasha, I'm _bored…_ "

She had responded that he ought to be thankful he didn't have to deal with the stacks of year-old paperwork.

Her ringing phone proved a welcome distraction, and she answered it with a simple "Romanoff."

"Agent, please report to the Director's office immediately." came the clipped voice of one of Fury's secretaries.

"Of course" Natasha responded, then hung up and tucked her phone in her pocket. Tossing her pen on the stack of unfinished paperwork, she briskly walked to the elevator, swiped her badge, then rode up to the top floor. A secretary who was talking on the phone motioned for her to enter.

Fury stood as she entered, blacking out the windows as his demon closed the door. She inclined her head.

"Sir. You called?"

Fury cleared his throat.

"Yes. How much do you know about the Asgardians?"

Natasha thought it.

"That question requires an extensive answer, sir. May I recommend that you seat yourself during the answer?"

Fury considered her for a second, then lowered himself into his chair. Natasha perched on the opposite end of the desk and started talking.

"All cultures have stories and myth- In some places those stories are called religion, and in others they are legends. Most narratives have a representation of good and evil. Even in places where religion is frowned upon, such as the scientific community, they have Negentropy, a measure of order and organization in a system, and Entropy, the measure of disorder. Just like an object looks different from different perspectives, so do events and beings.

"The Iroquois believed that demons, although they didn't use that particular term, originated in the Celestial World as the being Firedragon, which represented disorder and disorganization. Good, according to this view, was embodied by the Sky Chief and the Sky People, who created the human race.

"From the viewpoint of a major world religion, Christianity, demons are fallen angels who, after failing the tests God designed, were cast out of heaven along with their leader Lucifer, or the devil.

"The Asgardians believe that demons are beings of Muspelheim, the realm of fire, and are descended from Surtr, the fire Jotun, and Sinmara, the keeper of the flame sword Lævatein. Some of them were called the Sons of Muspell, and prophesied to break the Bifrost at the start of Ragnarok. Asgard considered them a threat at one point, but has since focused their military might on Jotunheim, realm of the frost giants. The Jotuns have been fighting with Asgard since the beginning of time, and their territory is mostly passable. The beings of Muspelheim have kept to themselves, and have faded into the outer reaches of Asgardian mythology. Muspelheim is also said to be impassable, due to the unbearable heat and treacherous terrain- no army would dare go there. I have never been to Asgard, but have heard stories from beings originating in what the Aesir (the name of the Asgardian race) call Niflheim.

"Of course, since this mythology originates with the Asgardians, they believe themselves to be the divine beings of the universe. They consider themselves to be deities, with powers and abilities. The empire, currently comprised of a single city and it's outskirts, is run under a monarchical system, with an Aesir named Odin, the Allfather, as king. He and his favorite wife Frigg, occupy the throne. He has other mistresses, but none that are notable. Their son Thor is the crown prince, and the mythology disagrees on Loki. One story says he is Odin's other son, and another says he is a jotun that Odin made a solemn promise to be blood brothers with. At any rate, Loki is cast as a troublemaker with darker tendencies, and is prophesized to eventually lead to the downfall of the Asgardian kingdom.

"The demon perspective on this mythology is unique, because, unlike the examples I have just given, we have no representation of good and evil. We have beings called Angels, but they act as benefits them, and are no more good or evil than the demons are. Demons also are acquainted with a group called the Reapers- they became the basis for the commonly referred to Grim Reaper, and the Asgardian counterpart, Hel. The intersection of the realms the Asgardians call Muspelheim and Niflheim is a place the demons call the Island of Death, which is the sanctuary where formal demon duels take place. That will also be the place I will take you when our contract is fulfilled.

"The difficult part about these different mythos is that, technically, all _and_ none are correct. A single event can never be fully described, because no one can see it from all perspectives. Remember that when you are thinking about the Asgardians, because it will aid you in your quest to understand their culture."

Natasha slid off Fury's desk and stood.

"I hope my answer has been satisfactory, sir. Anything else?"

Fury, who was surprised by the quantity of information, thought about it.

"So you are essentially saying that the Asgardians are not 'mad aliens' and instead just have a different perspective than us?"

Natasha smirked.

"I never said they weren't mad, sir. And they _definitely_ are aliens. If you ever meet one, you'll see what I mean."


End file.
